Where the Fence is Low
by thir13enth
Summary: Fresh to the spying career, she was assigned to watch after a gentlemanly piece of eye candy, but at this rate, she'd be getting diabetes. But how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll? Irosami.
1. I have a meal to finish

**Ah, great way to start the new year...Irosami!**

**Slightly AU. Snapshots of a romance-tinged story, not necessarily in chronological order.**

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_"How's Spices?"_

_"I've never heard of it."_

_"Fancy restaurant down the street. What do you think? My treat."_

He definitely wasn't lying when he said fancy.

They were seated practically immediately, in a luxuriously decorated room containing a small table with just two chairs placed around it. The room was on the fourth floor of the restaurant, and the window gave a spectacular view of the nighttime Republic City. A royal red couch was set on the other side of the room, in front of it, a small table of appetizers.

Clearly not economy class.

_Score_, she thought to herself. She was good enough at the whole flirting thing to prompt him to ask her out on a date.

"Come, let's sit," Iroh said to her, gesturing towards the couch.

"Is there anything that I can get for you, sir and madam?" the waiter asked on the way out of the room.

"Just water, please," Iroh replied.

She also acknowledged the waiter, "I'd like the same."

"Ah, perhaps add a bottle of your finest wine," he added.

"Of course, sir."

Then they were left alone. She took a seat next to him.

"Thank you for inviting me," she said. "I didn't realize that this restaurant was going to be so…" She looked back at him, not finishing her sentence. "Well…" And she looked away from him, making sure to keep the same 'shy girl' profile that she had maintained since the two of them had begun talking earlier in the day.

"Ms. Sato, a woman like you needs to be treated every now and then," he said.

"Asami, please," she corrected.

"Asami," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue for a moment. "And Iroh, for you."

She smiled lightly. "I'm working on it."

"So, _Asami_, I know that you're the executive VP of probably the most important part of our company, but I'm sure that there's so much more about you that I should know," he remarked, encouraging her to tell him about herself.

_Right, _she thought. _That I'm part of the syndicate that hates your organization with a fiery passion, and that I'm filing a report on this dinner date, which I will make sure is very detailed—especially after I find out everything about you._

"Well, I don't know, I lead a pretty average life," she admitted. "I'm more interested in finding out about yourself."

He smiled, taking his intense gaze off her and looking off to the side. "I guess we're both trying to do the same thing. How about we take turns?" His amber eyes traveled back to her. "One question at a time, play a little get-to-know-you game."

"I'd like that." She nodded and then turned her body more towards him.

"You first, please."

"Are the rumors that you served in the United Forces true? Were you really a general?" She folded her hands on her lap and sat up straight, trying to give off an aura of pure and innocent curiosity.

He grinned. "I didn't realize that my reputation preceded me."

"For something as commendable as that, I think you deserve it," she replied quickly.

He remade eye contact with her—and there was something about the way his face was angled in the light and the way he was smiling—and she felt her heart flutter a second.

Well, the hard part about being assigned to spy on a very handsome man.

What sweet eye-candy. At this rate she was going to get diabetes.

"I was recently promoted before I left the Forces," he answered. "I haven't led any great army. It's not too great of an honor—we're in peace time."

"Still," she said. "You must be very dedicated."

"But enough compliments about me," he said. "I want to ask you a question." She beckoned him to continue, and he asked, "So if I hadn't asked you out, what would you have been doing tonight?"

She thought for a moment, choosing to answer most honestly. "Actually I would have probably just sat on the couch and watched TV. I'm not much the socialite."

"Intriguing. I expected the opposite."

"What about you?"

"I like to keep to myself as well. Today was a special occasion."

She was not going to let him charm her.

"I'm guessing you live alone?" he continued.

"Yes. You?"

"Same. What university did you attend?"

"Republic City University. And yourself?"

"I went abroad to the Fire Nation."

"Oh, are you originally from there?"

"My family is."

"I see."

"Are you spying on me?"

The question caught her off guard. When she looked back at him, she was surprised to see him asking the question in the same nonchalant and lighthearted way.

He couldn't have _possibly _figured her out _already_, could he?

"Mr. Kaji?" And there was a knock on the door. The waiter. Fantastic.

"Come in."

The waiter rushed over to the table with the untouched appetizers that was next to them. He popped the bottle of some decadent-smelling wine and poured a glass for both of them. "Can I take your orders?"

Asami looked over at the also untouched menus. "Oh I'm sorry. We barely got to the menu."

"No matter, madam. I can come back later."

"That's alright. I'm actually starving," she replied, taking the menu book from the side table aside the lamp. She passed one to Iroh, making sure not to look at his face. She made her choice instantly. "I'd love the gnocchi napolitina."

Iroh chose as well. The waiter left the room and Asami quickly made her move.

"Sorry," she said, blinking. "Where were we?"

He was straightforward this time. "You're watching me, aren't you?"

She surveyed his hard eyes and the taut smile on his face.

He knew.

"You're only MVP of the enemy syndicate," she admitted, with a sigh.

"Ah, you're an Equalist. I thought so." He pondered a moment before continuing. "You were assigned to me?"

"One question at a time," she retorted, suddenly glad that she could get out of her acting shell and be herself.

He smirked, as though he were entertained, or at least thoroughly amused. "Go on."

"When did you figure it out?"

"I've been in the trade for a long time."

"How did you figure it out? You had others watching me, didn't you?"

"It's _my_ turn for a question," he reminded her. "And even if it was your turn, I still wouldn't answer that question."

"So you _are _considering the Equalists an enemy syndicate," she concluded. She would have to report this to her supervisor as soon as possible. "My superiors knew to keep an eye out for you Benders."

"Well, they don't have us wrong there," Iroh confirmed.

And suddenly, there was a gun dangling from his right hand, the barrel pressing against her side.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked, not bothering to look down at the weapon, despite the fact that she was hearing her heart in her ears. It was a strange combination of fear and the sudden realization that a very gorgeous man's face—although threatening—was inches away from her.

"Still my turn for a question," he growled. She felt the buzz of his bass voice tickling the outer lobe of her ear. "What are you going to do if I try?"

A knock on their door.

"Come in!" she answered for the amazingly fast serving waiter, who then walked in with their orders at hand.

_What are _you _going to do now? Pulling a gun out on me in _public—

She was appalled the second later when she felt cold metal pushed up her thigh under her dress, a quick hand smoothing over the ruffle.

_Did he just hide the gun—_

"Your orders. Would you like them on the table or—"

"The table is fine, thank you," Iroh answered immediately. He was still holding himself in the same place as he was earlier, except for his gun, which he had apparently hidden up her dress. Her _dress_, for Agni's sake!

The waiter closed the door behind him and Iroh immediately reached down to get his gun. She caught his perverted hand and then his other hand joined in the wrestle. She kept a tight grip on his right hand while pushing away his left hand with her free hand. She crossed her legs in an effort to keep the gun under her dress.

"Sorry," he apologized darkly. "But let me just get in your dress for a second."

"That was incredibly rude," she replied, with a light snarl. "There were definitely a lot of other places to hide the gun."

"What, in your bra?" He looked down the front of her dress, smirking. "I'm sure there's a lot of space in there."

"Look closer, I dare you," she hissed. She found a weak point in his arm wrestle and removed her left hand from his grip, slapping him soundly across the cheek. He retreated to recover and she drew the gun up from her dress to point it back at him.

Iroh wasn't fazed for a single moment. "Alright you got me," he said, putting his hands up in the air afterwards, almost like an afterthought. "The gun is empty though."

She checked the barrel before realizing that he wasn't lying. Irritated, she headed to the dining table. "I have a meal to finish," she declared, scowling at him and throwing his gun at his head back at him.

He caught the weapon in one hand, tucking it back under his suit jacket. "So I was just the appetizer? Harsh."

She paid no attention to him, but he caught her by the waist.

"At least share a drink with me," he said, handing her a glass of the wine.

She took it, although she was furious, her anger still written all over her face.

"To getting to know each other—much better," he said, raising a glass with a mischievous smile.

"Cheers," she hissed, intentionally taking a large sip before bringing her glass to his.

They toasted nevertheless.

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**I played a bit with Iroh's personality. We haven't quite gotten to know him very well yet in the LoK series, which is a shame, but hopefully you like my rather fun devilish rendition of him! Please do read and review, let me know what you think!**

**thir13enth**


	2. I know him

**Haha, I totally forgot that I even started uploading this story-that's why it's been taking forever! Anyway, apologies for that long wait. Life's been distracting me from writing as usual!**

**Enjoy!**

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"Here," her hairdresser said, in a quiet voice against the roar of the other blowdryers in the salon.

Asami discretely took the small photo that she was given from her side. She glanced at it as though she was looking at another hairstyle that she might try—though it was a photo far from that.

"I know him," she admitted, without hesitation. "He works in the engineering side of the company. I saw him a couple of times during interdepartmental meetings."

She didn't think that the person that she'd be assigned to spy on would be someone that she was already familiar with—in fact, someone that she had done business with a number of times already.

"What's…wrong with him?" she asked, with a moment to search for the word.

"He's part of a syndicate that works against ours," her hairdresser explained in a low voice, while applying the pomegranate-and-mango scented shampoo that Asami loved. "The Benders. They're potentially the strongest group antagonizing us and while they haven't made any direct attacks against us, they're aware that we exist and they want to stop us. _He_ happens to be one of their more valuable personnel."

Asami frowned, looking again at the picture she was handed. "It's too bad," she commented. "He's quite the attractive one."

A chiseled masculine face with a well-defined jawline, smooth shaven and with skin that rivaled the ones on commercials for face products. Determined and ambitious eyes the color of honey with a mop of short black hair that matched his facial frame.

"I _know, _right?" her hairdresser moaned, stomping her foot on the ground once before peeking over Asami's shoulder at the profile picture to see it again. "I'm almost jealous of you, but alas, as a mission supervisor, I have to delegate away even the best tasks. You'll have to deal with him in the long run."

"What am I doing again?"

"You're going to keep tabs on him. Figure out everything about him and report it—where he's living, what he does outside of work that might relate to the Benders, how he keeps in contact with the Benders, what he eats for lunch, how many computers he owns, what's his salary, what's his relationship status—"

Asami interrupted with a smile. "Okay, okay, I get it. I'll find out the last part just for you."

"Thanks," her hairdresser deadpanned. "Just don't go falling in love with him or whatever other stupid movie-like plot."

"Oh please—"

"But actually. Apparently, word on the street is that he has a reputation for being charming and is very good at having his way. He came back from the United Forces after working as general or something impressive. He's also grandson of the guy that founded Kaji Industries, you know?

"Funny, I heard all the same rumors from work."

"Well we take what we can get, right? Besides, you were assigned to him because you work at the same workplace. It'd be easiest for you."

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**thir13enth**


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